


advisor

by killmongersgurl



Series: redeemed!softboi [10]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmongersgurl/pseuds/killmongersgurl





	advisor

T’Challa squinted, his eyes burning a bit as cameras flashed from within the rowdy crowd before him. The bright lights were making it a bit difficult for him to see and choose the waving hand of the next journalist preparing to ask a question. But then he saw it: a small hand, small and brown. This was not a journalist, but a curious child, brave enough to challenge the adults around him.

The corners of the king’s mouth curved up and into a soft smile as he pointed at the little hand. “I will now answer the question of my young friend.”

The confusion emanating from within the crowd was clear, as they all followed the direction of the king’s pointed finger. They looked back to the king, then to the child, back to the king, and finally and curiously, they quieted down as they sat to focus their attention onto the child.

“Please,” T’Challa commanded. “Get this boy a microphone.”

As soon as he said it, it was done.

“King T’Challa,” the child began. The crowd released a collective,  _aww!_ , and even the king chuckled. The young boy, however, continued undeterred. “I was born and raised in the hood, and the only time I ever get out is during school trips. My community has always suffered, people like me are targeted and killed by the police and the government doesn’t care, and… knowing that Wakanda could have helped us but kept themselves and their resources secret, hurts. Y’all look just like us.”

Low murmurs filled the crowd as they looked amongst one another while attempting to sneak glances at the king. A pang of guilt struck T’Challa’s heart as he resisted his own urge to turn and look to his cousin standing behind him.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” the little boy continued. “How do you expect the world and black people to trust Wakanda and the offering of their resources now, when they hid themselves from the rest of the world for so long?”

The crowd’s murmurs grew into questions aimed directly at the king as the flashes of the cameras returned.

“How do you expect to answer his question, King T’Challa?”

“King T’Challa, King T’Challa! Over here! Do you plan to take responsibility for the actions of the previous king’s?”

“Your majesty! Will this accusation force you to take a step back to reconsider—“

“Young man,” T’Challa declared with a raise of his hand. The crowd slowly quieted down, save for the few who continued to call his name out. He simply ignored them and looked to the child, meeting his eyes directly. “My cousin and trusted advisor, N’Jadaka, had the privilege of spending his childhood in America just like you, before officially and successfully integrating into the Wakandan culture. As of a year ago today, he is finally recognized as a true Wakandan himself. He has lived as you have lived, and has seen for himself exactly what Wakanda can bring to the world, if our offer of help is accepted. As such, I believe that N’Jadaka is the only one who can truly answer this question.”

N’Jadaka clapped a hand onto T’Challa’s shoulder and with a nod, the cousins switched positions. The king stood behind his advisor as his cousin and royal advisor took his position at the podium with the microphone before his lips. He looked to the child. “Young king, I just want to thank you for asking that question. I can tell that it was well thought out and that you are truly on the search for answers, answers that I believe I can give to you because, just as my cousin said: I grew up just like you.”

N’Jadaka slammed his hands onto the podium, drawing a gasp from everyone within the room as they all jumped.

Well, everyone except for T’Challa, that is.

The king stood perfectly still and perfectly calm.

“The only reason I grew up like you, little nigga—“

The crowd gasped.

“—is because my cousin’s bitch ass father—“

“King T’Challa, will you allow him to continue—!”

T’Challa raised a hand.

“—killed my father, left his body in my living room, and left me to fend for myself in these streets!” N’Jadaka jutted a thumb behind himself and at T’Challa. “You think I  _liked_  this nigga?! Little nigga, I hated this nigga  _on sight_ , tried to kill him, and tried to take the throne ‘cuz I thought that he was as much of a bitch ass nigga as his bitch ass nigga father.”

The king nodded, a modest smile touching his lips as he raised a hand to place it over his heart. He chuckled and looked to his shoes with a sheepish shrug. “Yes, it’s— It is true. He did try to kill me. It was totally crazy. He threw me over a waterfall and stole my best friend—“

“I tried to send Wakanda’s resources out into the world in order to arm our people in the fight against the bitch ass cracker colonizers who stole our people from their land,” N’Jadaka continued before shaking his head. “But during my time in Wakanda, I came to realize that the only reason their bitch ass kings hid Wakanda for so long is because…”

Everyone leaned forward in their seats, awaiting the completion of his answer.

Even T’Challa looked pretty expectant, his lips forming a little pout as his eyes darted between the child and his cousin.

“…is because they ain’t want no fuckin’ colonizers fuckin’ with their resources.”

A journalist gathered her belongings and left.

Shuri’s sharp cackle cut through the silence from somewhere within the room.

Nevertheless, N’Jadaka nodded toward the child, who stared up at him with the biggest grin. “Wakanda has realized the error of their ways. You can trust them and their resources, young king, because their king is a good king with a good heart. If he says that Wakandan resources will be put toward the betterment of our people across the world, believe it.”

A heavy silence filled the room as the young child continued to smile at N’Jadaka, before a journalist tentatively raised his hand. He looked from left to right before standing and clearing his throat.

“Yes, this is a question for King T’Challa?”

At that, the king and his advisor switched positions once again.

“Do you have anything to say regarding your advisor’s statement?”

“Yes,” T’Challa said with a nod. He looked to his cousin, nodded again, and turned to the microphone. “I agree.”

The journalists screamed as they stood from their seats, some in opposition and others in excitement, while the cameras resumed their flashing.

The king simply squinted as he searched for another hand to choose. “Ah, so bright. Next question, please.”


End file.
